Amy's Story: Heyes' View
by NorthStar65
Summary: A companion story to 'Amy's Story'. It has some mature "scenes".


**Author's Note:** This story is as dark as 'Amy's Story'. It was hard to write this but I hope that I have captured an accurate expression of the Heyes character. Thanks for reading. I rated it as T+ for some mature themes.

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It was these times, when the going was slow, the days were quiet, the peace of just the wind in the grasses - it was these times that made me crave the amnesty. I wanted this. I was tired of the running, of the hiding, of being someone else. I was Hannibal Heyes, not Joshua Smith. I was almost afraid that when the amnesty did come I wouldn't know who I was.

Anyway, we had been riding for going on 3 days, still had quite a few to go. Sure, it was my bright idea to take Bison Gap - thought it would be a shortcut, ha! - ended up hitting a fierce rainstorm and with the altitude we ended up with some hail. Ouch! Boy, Kid just wouldn't let it go.

Came out on the east side of the mountains and headed in to the valley spread before us. We decided to camp along the stream. Dry out our gear, the horses and ourselves before moving on. So we set up camp, fished a little that first night, today we decided to head a little further down the valley and see if we couldn't find some game to tide us over. I didn't enjoy shooting or hunting as much as Kid did but it was nice to just ride for the joy of riding - not to get somewhere or get away from somewhere.

It was midday when we headed back to camp. The light hit the grasses just right and it seemed to be dancing. When I tried to get Kid to see it he just grunted at me. Boy, he sure can get tetchy when he wasn't able to shoot anything.

"Heyes, what's that over there?" Kid was pointing to a large rock.

"Well that my friend is a big rock." I shot him a sideways glance.

"Oh you're a real hoot Heyes. Look to the left of the rock. Is that a horse?"

I peered off into the valley again, looked hard at the rock. "Sure, I guess it could be. Do you think we oughta give it a wide-berth or be friendly?"

"There's no rider." He squinted hard "Look's to be still saddled."

"Alright lets head over".

We rode up and I'm not sure who saw the girl lying there first but Kid was first to dismount and approach. For a moment I was so taken back by the sight that met my eye's I couldn't move. I slowly dismounted and walked towards Kid and the girl.

Ma? She looked so like my ma with the brown hair, her nose, the mouth. I stopped, thought I was going to be sick. Sick like I was all those years ago when I had come running back to the burning house, found her there, just outside the back steps. Her head was tilted at a funny angle, found out later it was from having her neck broke. There was also blood, blood everywhere. It was on the steps, her hands, and all over her dress - down there.

Kid was talking to her. "Miss? It's okay. We don't plan on hurtin' ya." I looked at her over his shoulder. When she blinked her eyes open I sucked in my breath - she looked SO like my ma. I knelt down next to her "Miss?"

"I don't think she's awake. Let's take her back to camp." I slipped an arm behind her neck, the other under her knees and stood up. She was so light. Her head turned in to my chest. Her hand was placed on my arm.

We weren't far from our camp so instead of hassling with getting on the horse and off the horse with her I decided to just walk. She weighed next to nothing. Carried wood for a fire that weighed more than she did.

I couldn't hardly look at her, just walked to camp. Not that she was ugly but the blood. She was so pale. Her breathing was shallow. She looked like my ma. I was having a time getting past that.

I walked in to camp, Kid had moved his bedroll closer to the fire.

"Put her here".

"No, Thaddeus let's set her on mine. I'll sit with her first.". Again, with the fake names - even out in the middle of nowhere with a girl so sick that... well, she probably wouldn't remember anyway but we just couldn't take that chance.

The Kid pulled my bedroll closer to the fire.

"Would you get a pot of coffee on?"

As I set her down she let out a small cry. "Please... I'm sorry... please don't."

I gently reached out to brush away a lock of hair.

"Shhh... just rest. Thaddeus and I will be right here."

Kid had the coffee going and was adding some wood to start a pot of beans when the wood in the fire cracked. She started and jerked upright, her hands reached out as if grabbing for something. I went to my knees by her side and pulled her towards me.

"It's okay, just the fire. You're okay here. Just rest." I slowly laid her back and watched her for a few minutes. You could see her face twitch, eyebrows knit together as she tried to let the sleep take her.

Kid offered me a canteen and his bandana so I started to wipe her face. A lot of blood. It struck me as odd, just then, that I was the one tending to her. Kid was the one who was usually up to this when it came to strangers but something inside told me I had to do this. Not just for her but for me.

We ate dinner. Talked about where she may have come from, we were a good sixty miles from, Saddle Springs, the closest town. Talked about how she may have gotten injured. Talked about where we were going to head to, it was obvious she needed a doctor but taking her to Saddle Springs probably wasn't a good idea. Decided to head on to Lofton's Bluff, it was further but the ride would be easier.

I pulled my saddle to the other side of the fire and settled in for the night. After Kid came back from the creek he stopped and stared at her for a few minutes. He took off his coat and laid it over her. He was going to make a good dad someday. He laid down on his bedroll, hands behind his head and just stared off into the night sky.

I knew he was thinking about "it". Family. We very rarely talked about them anymore. It was like that was a far off life, lived by people that we barely knew. It hurt. It was maddening. When we were first sent to the school we didn't talk about them a lot either. I guess the hurt was so fresh it scared you to death to think of them. When we ran away we talked about them a lot. It was like stoking a fire. A lot of that talk is what drove us to do the things we did. Not because we thought our parents would be proud of us but because of the anger that had no where to go. Lay the blame somewhere and the rich were as good as any. Even now I could still feel it inside of me, like the flames in the fire - reaching out wildly then subsiding. We just wanted to make them pay but didn't ever see a reason to hurt anyone. Have a bunch of guys wave guns at folk trapped on a train and most of them want to cooperate. After our reputation grew and folk realized it was us - the gentleman robbers, sheesh - they were more than cooperative.

Kid woke up a few hours later and I took a short nap but couldn't sleep with the image of the girl, my ma, the burning house, the stench, my brother and sisters, my pa, the blood. I woke up a good two hours before dawn. Just laid staring into the sky. The stars blinking their purity at me. I sat up, nodded to Kid and he slid in to his bedroll. I guess some of the same things were running through his head. It was the stuff that kept us together. It's what made him the only person in the world I could ever feel like myself with. Didn't have to explain stuff. Didn't feel lost when he was with me. Wasn't sure what would happen the day we found someone that was willing to settle down with one of us. How do you explain a lifetime of knowing someone?

Before the sun even crested the horizon it was making a spectacular assault on the colors of the rainbow. For all the ugliness that man could force on someone, nature could make it seem right again. I got a fresh pot of coffee and started to think about the day ahead. The long ride. The girl was bad off and neither one of us was sure what to do. I've tended Kid when he was sick but that's just a cold or something easy, like a bullet. You know what to do about that stuff but this... this was different.

I saw her eyes open slowly. "Hey, how ya feeling this mornin'?" You could see she was trying to focus on me. "Would you like some water or coffee?"

She looked terrified of me when she whispered out for a drink of water. I went and got her the canteen. When I turned back to her you could see how young she was. Couldn't of been more than 17. Scared, hurt, alone - been there done that.

Tried to get her to smile, to see that I wasn't going to hurt her, just wanted to help. When I started laughing about my coffee she just stared. It was like she didn't understand that it was funny. It was like she had never had a thing to laugh at in her whole life. Couldn't even imagine what that was like. I've had my share of sorrow but I've had my share of smiles.

Then she's asking me to let her go. Wants to trade her horse - which I'm guessing isn't really hers to give - just to let her go. I tell her no. Kid wakes up, "Mornin' Thaddeus. Coffee's on, just telling the young lady here what was on the menu for breakfast." She lets out a snort of what could be taken for laughter and then immediately puts her hand to her mouth and apologized. I get a sad little ache inside knowing that there is someone out there, someone right here, that has seen so much misery. She has nothing to be sorry for, I can't tolerate the ache anymore so I go to fix breakfast.

I want to help make this better. My armor is a lot duller than Kid's when it comes to helping ladies in distress but something about this girl has taken hold of me, it wants me to help her. Kid comes to help and I nervously start to chatter and needle him, try to take my mind off the pain of the girl, the pain the girl is bringing me. We eat breakfast and I want to help her clean up.

When I offer to take her to wash the terror is back in her eyes when I offer to carry her. At first I wasn't sure what caused the tears and then I could only shake my head and apologize for being such an ass. For not thinking about how words could make someone so fragile hurt as much as a blow with a fist.

We reach the creek and I watch for a minute, not to be vulgar. Tthe way she is dipping her hands in the water - not sure but you could almost feel the air clearing around her. I offered my bandana and stepped back. She started telling me about the clothes she had on but it had nothing to do with that it was a way for her to tell me something about herself. She had killed a man. I've come close to beating a man to death but can't imagine what it's like for a young girl to have to resort to taking a life to find a way out. All she had was my word that we wouldn't hurt her, can't picture how many times that lie was thrown in her face. The ache inside of me was back.

Kid brought some spare clothes. He didn't even try and look past me. I think the sight of the girl all bloody scared him more than facing down some hot-head with a gun.

She struggled back to the campsite. I'm not sure why I let her do it, in her condition probably didn't help her but... I don't know, maybe if she felt like she could make it through the physical pain then somehow she could make it through the mental pain.

She slept and Kid and I talked. Lot of things said and unsaid. Kid was a comfort - so much that never had to be said but was always understood. The ache subsided.

We got her bundled and onto my horse. Thoughts of a small boy sitting in the dirt, blood on his pants, smoke filling the air, swirled through my head. Without thinking I clutched her tight to me. That small boy clutched on to a broken mother and cried. The ache rose in my throat. As I usually did I started jabbering away to Kid. Talk about anything, talk about everything.

It was a couple hours later and I sensed that she was slipping away. Signaled Kid that we needed to stop. Thankfully we were close to a small stream. I couldn't do it a second time. I couldn't see her by the water, wishing that she could clean it all away. I let Kid take her. After I staked out the horses I could hear her crying. I've heard that noise before it came from a small boy, sitting in the dirt, clutching to his mother.

The story she told brought the ache, the bile, the tears. I was shaking by the time she was finished. A whispered thanks and just like all those years ago I felt a life slip past me on to something that surely has to be better than what it found here.

I no longer wanted to be Joshua Smith. I want to be a small boy. I want to be Hannibal Heyes.


End file.
